


The Recycled Air Is Sweeter Out Here

by BenevolentErrancy



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bonding, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Platonic or Pre-Relationship your choice, post-Change of Mind, space walk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentErrancy/pseuds/BenevolentErrancy
Summary: At one point, when this had become a Thing, Lovelace had thought she would miss her alone time, but Lambert turned out to be a good person to be alone with.  He understood silence in a way that Fourier and Hui and Fisher didn't.  He didn't bother her when she detached from the hull and floated; they simply existed, together, in space. It was nice, in ways she never would have expected from Sam Lambert.Plus, weightless freefalling, cosmic fisticuffs, and the threat of airlocks.





	The Recycled Air Is Sweeter Out Here

Seven and a half lightyears from earth, there was a quiet sort of industry taking place. Aboard the Hephaestus station, this tended to be the exception, not the rule – even under Captain Lovelace's determined command, minor catastrophes had a way of popping up like clover. Whether it was a fight over who had finished off the morning coffee, or Dr Hui nearly dropping them into the star on his lunch break, or Rhea in the evening informing them that another part of the ship was trying to fall off, there was always something. Admittedly, with more frequency than she would ever own up to, Lovelace had a tendency to be that something. She did nothing quietly, her joy, amusement, and fury could all be heard echoing around the station. Sometimes it was her voice booming as she demanded everyone get on task and fix the latest disaster, other times she herself was the distraction cheerfully and irreverently pulling others away from their work – regardless, she did ensure that life aboard the station stayed interesting.

And in this moment, it was indeed Captain Lovelace who broke the almost hypnotic levels of concentration. With a weary grunt, she pushed herself away from the console she had been working on, stretching in a way that can only be accomplished if you are either in zero-g or happen to be cat.

“Well,” she said to the room at large, which currently consisted of herself, Dr Fourier, Dr Hui, and Officer Lambert, all crammed in the lab as they tried to get the influx of new data they'd received sorted and catalogued correctly, “I think that's about all the nerd work I can take in one sitting. This won't go bad if it we let it sit out for a day, will it, Fourier?”

“Um, no, it should be fine, Captain...” she said. “The sooner we have it prepped the sooner Rhea can prepare for the next astrological event like that, hopefully so we don't get pummeled _quite_ so hard next time, but–”

“And when are we expecting another even?” asked Lovelace.

“Um...”

“Based off the limited data we've received so far, in comparison to what we already know of its kind, we might have contact like that again in another six months or so!” said Hui, who sounded nearly giddy at the prospect of being 'pummeled' by space weather again. “This is really helping us completely rewrite what we thought we knew about–”

“Alright, as long as it's not going to sneak up on us again overnight, I think I'm good.”

“Captain...”

Fourier winced and hunched back over her console, trying to focus on the numbers flitting across her screen rather than the disapproving note in Lambert's tone. They were seven and a half lightyears from Earth, for god's sake, and it seemed to Fourier that should mean they could more or less do whatever the hell they wanted in regards to shift work – why should Goddard care if she clocked her hours during the day or at two in the morning when inspiration struck? And given that Lovelace was the captain, ie the one _making_ the rules, that went doubly so for her, surely! But it would be just like Lambert to dig his heels in about the captain skiving off with an hour left before shift rotation.

Captain Lovelace, rather predictably, bulldozed right over her communication officer's objections. “I need to decompress, it's been a long day.” And then, rather _un_ expectedly, she added: “Lambert, you coming?”

Fourier's fingers paused in their dance over the keyboard. By the sudden silence next to her, she could tell that Hui too had been thrown off by the sudden deviation of routine. Normally there would be shouting by now.

Even more surprising was Lambert's response.

“I... That is... You shouldn't...” There was a long pause that had Fourier wanting to scream with anticipation, until Lambert gave a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Alright. Just let me... finish... this.”

“Sure.” Lovelace pushed off towards the door, though she paused long enough to add, “And you two, don't work too hard. Remember, we're up again at oh-seven-hundred to run checks with Fisher.”

“R-right, Captain,” said Fourier. She was trying really really really hard not to gawk, and she was pretty sure she was failing.

The captain left. Lambert finished tapping away at whatever data cluster he'd been working on, methodically saved his work, shut down his station, and then left as well.

Once again, it was silent in the astrophysicists' lab – until the exact moment they both started talking at once.

“What in the–”

“I have no idea.”

“He just left!

“They didn't even yell at each other – not even a little bit!”

“Normally getting him to leave his duties to help with someone else's is like pulling teeth but he just... left!”

“Honestly, the star could have turned blue and it would have seemed less weird than whatever that was.”

“Where are they heading? Do we have comms on them?”

“Give me a sec, I'm trying to figure that out–”

-

“Decompression complete, exterior doors opening.” And then they were out. Lovelace breathed deep – which even she could admit was a little silly, because she was just getting the same, recycled air from her life-support unit, but the there was a different feel to it as you stepped out from airlock and into space. It was a breathe that came with the knowledge that there was only a thin suit separating you from an endless amount of _nothing_. No air, no atmosphere, not even any sound. The suits they were wearing were nearly three hundred pounds on Earth but you couldn't tell, no out here, and the mag boots made each step an effort but it was done in complete, eerie silence.

The only sound tethering her to humanity was the sound of Lambert breathing in his own suit, filtering faintly through the comms. It meant she heard the very brief moment his breathing hitched when they cleared the station's threshold, and then settle back into its usual rhythm – a rhythm she had become strangely familiar with during these little excursions. She glanced over at him; his expression was calm, peaceful, as he gazed up at the deep, dark blackness. He was nothing like the tightly wound coil of anxiety he had been the first time. Maybe he had gotten used to it. Maybe he had gotten used to _her_.

Or maybe she was projecting just because she had gotten used to him being there, so much so that helping to prep each other's space suit and the harmonized sound of a second pair of lungs breathing felt like it had always belonged in her routine. That first time she had brought him out here, after the box, after Eris, she certainly hadn't expected this – it was Lambert, after all, nothing between them was ever _easy_.

And yet, it hadn't actually been that hard to convince him the first time – they'd needed it, they had _both_ needed it. To step outside the station, outside Command's sick, twisted game, and they had needed to be together. To feel out the tenuous new bond that they were forming, to remind each other that they were both alive with their minds intact. For her, she needed to absorb the fact that for all his moaning and complaining and fighting, Lambert did value her enough not to make a grab for command while he could. Maybe he needed to absorb the fact that, at the end of the day, she wouldn't trade the obnoxious, anal-retentive Sam Lambert for any other Lambert either. A strange sort of thing to be sentimental about, maybe, but they had never exactly been _friends_.

The second time, it had been harder to convince him. She wasn't even sure what exactly had made her _want_ to bring him out with her again. Normally it was a moment just for her. Occasionally she would make an allowance for Hui or Fisher being there, spotting her, but all she wanted was silence and music and the vacuum. To be apart from everything, just for a few minutes. She told herself it was the challenge that drove her to seek Lambert out again – she now knew what Lambert was _afraid_ of, surely she had to milk that, right? Right. So she had sought him out in his comm room, where he sat and dutifully listened to static, and she had propositioned him. He had refused. He had work to do, _important_ work no matter what any of the others had to say about it, he couldn't just desert it, couldn't just go out and play when there were expectations on him. Maybe she should have just left him alone then, accepted that their moment was past and grouchy, stickler Lambert was back, but... he didn't _want_ to refuse. She could just _tell_. The way his eyes flicked from her, to the stars beyond his window, and then back down, not to his work exactly but just so that he was no longer making eye contact with her when he refused... He wanted to, she knew it. He just seemed to feel like he couldn't. Or shouldn't. Or something. So she had made it easier for him – she had _ordered_ him to. After all, everyone was supposed to do ten hours worth of space walking in their first week; it was her duty as captain to make sure everyone on her vessel was equipped to handle any situation that might be demanded of them. She was being _responsible_. He had stiffened, had delivered her a “yes, sir”, and had then complied. She couldn't be sure, but she had thought he just might have smiled a little as he'd gone to get suited up. She thought about that more than she cared to admit.

The third time had been easy. “I suppose I probably haven't quite done ten hours yet,” he'd said, and that had been that.

The fourth time, they hadn't bothered with excuse or justifications. Maybe at that point Lambert had still felt that there was an implicit duty, or maybe he hadn't care anymore either. Lovelace knew she didn't want to over-examine her motivations here, and maybe it was the same for him.

By now, it was just a part of the routine.

And it was _nice_.

At one point, when this had become a _thing_ , Lovelace had thought she would miss her alone time, but Lambert turned out to be a good person to be alone with. He understood silence in a way that Fourier and Hui and Fisher didn't. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he spent hours every day listening to space ignore him – who knew? Either way, he didn't bother her when she detached from the hull and floated; they simply existed, together, in space. It was nice.

This time though, Lovelace was determined to shake things up a little.

“Come on, I think we're ready to go up.”

Lambert had already settled down against the hull, sitting as much as one could without gravity by resting back against the mag boots, and he nodded absently as Lovelace spoke until his mind caught up with what he was hearing.

“We–? Oh! Captain, no, I don't think–”

But Lovelace was already clomping towards him, hand held out.

“Come on, Lambert. Don't be a stick-in-the-mud.” She hoped her grin was enough to soften the words.

He stare wearily up at her but leaned away from her hand like it was going to burn.

“I– I told you I'm not made for this sort of thing, I'm perfectly happy sitting right here, you can go ahead and–”

“You said you needed time and you must have realized by now that I'm not about to go careening off into space without the mag boots, and neither are you. It'll be _fine_. Come on. Come on,” she wheedled. “I'll be right there.”

“No offense, Captain, but you being there isn't exactly going to make the slightest bit of difference if the tether breaks, or if there's a radiation event, or a meteor-strike, or...” He gulped, and Lovelace could hear it over the comms. “You're pretty good Captain, but even you can't just... punch space.”

“You just watch me,” she said, with no hesitation.

That gave Lambert pause – and then he started to choke. Or Lovelace thought it was choking, because of _course_ that would be just their luck and it would turn out they had been tempting fate and Lambert's oxygen supply had gotten a puncture or something – it took a moment to realize, no, he was laughing. A surprised, reluctant, spluttering laugh, but definitely a laugh.

“You _would_ ,” he said. “Oh god, I can see it. If anyone would try to out-stubborn the universe...”

She nudged Lambert with her foot. “No one gets to mess with you but me, not even the unfeeling void. So, you coming?” Again, she held out her hand.

Lambert's hand hesitated, and then he too reached out and this time clasped his in Lovelace's. She heard his scared hiss of breath but didn't give him time to overthink things; with a tug she pulled him up right.

“On three, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Captain.”

“Okay. Three, two, one...” Her mag boots disengaged. For a moment she was still attached to the ship, this time by Lambert's arm, until, “Sam, you can do this, I'm right here,” and then his boots disengaged too.

He shrieked. She laughed, because she couldn't help it. His one hand tightened harder around hers and his other flailed until she managed to grab it with her free hand, and then they just... floated. The tethers were steady and they revolved slowly in space tied together by their hands like free-fallers. Lovelace had always wanted to try parachuting out of a plane, but it might not be quite the same thrill anymore. She doubted even the rush of air could beat the feeling of simply existing, of stubbornly continuing to live while surrounded by an environment that actively wanted to kill you.

“Are your eyes closed, Lambert?”

“Give me time,” was his response, squeaky with terror.

“Alright, fine, you big baby. One sec, I'm turning on some music...”

Her hand left his – reluctantly, she had to tug a bit to get him to let go – and went to one of the devices on her suit. Her playlist resumed from where it had left off, and she took Lambert's hand again soon after. She closed her eyes and just... was.

Time passed.

The music played.

Lovelace breathed, and it was the same recycled air but it there was something sweeter and fuller about it out here.

Finally, when she knew that they were only a couple songs away from the end of the playlist, she opened her eyes again. She meant to reassure Lambert that they could head back in, so she was surprised to see his eyes open as well. Floating like they were, his head couldn't have been more than a foot from hers, and she could see him clearly through the bubble of their helmets. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed, like he was completely zoned out (space out, _ha ha_ ) just like she had been. And he was smiling. It wasn't much, but given that she wasn't entirely sure she had _ever_ seen the man smile she felt like she'd caught sight of the red dwarf without her protective visor on. And she couldn't look away. Honestly she would have been a little miffed that every one of her active attempts to get the man to crack a smile had failed when something as passive as this had succeeded were it not such a gratifying thing to see. Like some little proof that Lambert _could_ just... relax and be happy and act like an actual _human_ from time to time.

She half-wanted to preserve the moment. To let herself fade back into the music and just watch Lambert's face and marvel at this strange little miracle, but they were on the last song now before she would have to refresh the playlist and, well, at the end of the day she was her.

“I didn't know your face could do that.”

Lambert startled and blinked. “Huh? What?”

“That thing your mouth was doing. Did it hurt?”

“Did what...? What happened? What's wrong with my–”

“You were _smiling_ , Lambert.”

“Oh. You know I _do_ do that, just not when people are _making fun of me_ ,” he said moodily.

“I'm not making fun! Just observing! Looks like you started to enjoy yourself. Who was right?”

“Yes, alright, it wasn't... so bad.”

“Excuse me?” said Lovelace. She released her hands from Lambert's and began pulling herself back up the tether. A few feet behind her Lambert flailed for a moment until he grabbed hold of his twisting line and followed her.

“Do you really need me to say it that badly?”

“That I was right? Oh yes, it doesn't happen often, I like to savour it.”

Lambert snorted. “Fine. You were right. It was... nice up there. ...I'm not saying I want to be put on exterior repair duty anytime soon,” he added hastily, “but with you it was... it was nice.”

“You're such a poet, Lambert,” Lovelace said, making Lambert splutter indignantly in response.

“Oh yeah, well what've you got? A limerick?”

“Just for you I might be able to whip out a classic 'man from Nantucket' rhyme.”

Fortunately her skills as a poet weren't put to the test because by then they were back on the hull, mag boots once again connected, and they were able to march their way back into the station.

Lovelace was just trying to figure out how you were supposed to end an experience like that – how do you thank someone who may or may not be the ultimate thorn in your side for spending time with you and for trusting you and for _smiling_? Well, she was also spared from figuring that out, because once they'd made it back into the ship they found themselves face to face with Hui, Fourier, and Fisher, all of who looked like they had been standing around and waiting there for a while. Fourier was craning her neck to see around Hui. Fisher was standing off to the side with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

“Uh,” said Lovelace, taking off her helmet, “can I... help you with anything? Please tell me nothing blew up while I was gone.”

“Oh- no, everything's... everything just fine, Captain,” Hui reassured her, though he was still eyeballing her, like he didn't entirely believe what he was seeing. She hadn't walked back in with an alien trying to suck her brains out or something without noticing, had she?

“O...kay...” said Lovelace carefully. There was another shoe waiting to drop, there had to be; Lambert certainly seemed agitated by it. Lovelace was hoping that waiting it out would make one of the two scientists crack.

In the end, it was Lambert that spoke first, in his snappish, nasally voice. “You know, she's my frie- my crewmate too, I _am_ allowed to spend time with her. So whatever you came here to say...”

Oh. She hadn't even considered the fact that maybe the two of them had decided to come down to heckle them. It'd made sense though, she supposed – after all, teasing Lambert was a bit of a national pastime, as far as the Hephaestus crew was concerned. ...Although thinking about it now, maybe that wasn't _entirely_ fair to Lambert. Oh damn, please tell her she wasn't going to develop a conscience over this.

The two scientists at least had the grace to look sheepish at Lambert's outburst.

“No no no, I promise, that was _not_ what we– I mean, of course you are, nothing strange about that _at all_ , we just... happened to be passing through, is all!” said Fourier, rather desperately. She was trying to retreat and gesturing at Hui to move; Lovelace just crossed her arms and frowned harder at them.

Fisher spoke up. “They're telling the truth on that front, Captain,” he drawled. “As far as I could make heads or tails of it, it sounded to me like they saw you and Officer Lambert heading off towards the airlock, and _they_ took it into their heads that you must have snapped and were off to space our dear communications officer. What you see here if a rather belated and somewhat misguided rescue party.”

If they had looked sheepish before, they looked downright mortified now.

“I wouldn't put it... _exactly_ like that,” said Fourier.

“We were just popping by, checking things out,” added Hui.

“Making sure everyone was okay! Uh, not that we'd ever think that anyone would ever _dream_ of throwing anyone else out of any airlocks...”

“Alright, that's enough,” said Lovelace finally, before she let them dig themselves a deeper hole. “You two, go be not here.”

“Aye aye, sir!” both of them parroted with naked relief, and off they scrambled, likely to seek refuge back in the lab. Fisher just rolled his eyes at the Captain and shot her a look that said _well, you brought that one on yourself_ , before he too pushed off back into the main body of the station.

That left only herself and Lambert, who's face was twisted back into its usual rather sullen, petulant expression. Lovelace sighed internally – she would have hoped that Lambert could have been left this whole experience looking as... relaxed, as _happy_ , as he had up in space, for a little while longer. Then again, this _was_ Lambert, so maybe that was hoping for too much.

Lambert sighed. “Well, I should get going. I'm going to have a backlog of work to catch up on, after spending most of the day in the lab and then... and then not going back to the comm rooms right away. Unless you need me for anything else, Captain, I'll get going.”

Then again, she was the captain, and that meant it was her job to patch up any and all catastrophes, no matter now big. No matter how small.

She dropped a hand onto Lambert's shoulder; he seemed startled and perhaps a bit wary of the gesture.

“Hey,” she said, “ignore them. You know what those two are like.”

“Yeah,” Lambert agreed, sullenly. “I just wish they'd leave me out of it.”

Lovelace snorted. “Please, as if any of us could go one day without getting all up in each other's business. And Lambert? I am glad you think of me as a friend.”

“Oh. Uh, I– that is...” He looked like he was desperately grasping for something to say, for something to make this awkward moment end, but he eventually gave up. “...Thanks, Captain.”

She smiled at him, “I think of you as a friend too.”

And _that_ made Lambert smile back at her. Not as comfortable and natural as the previous one, but definitely a smile, and it was one that she and _only_ she had drawn out. For now, that was more than good enough for Lovelace. More than she'd thought she'd ever get out of him a month ago.

“I'd better... I should head off,” he mumbled finally, but his expression was still soft, pleased.

“Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, Sam.”

He pushed off back down corridor, and Lovelace watched him go. Oh, he was still Lambert alright, but Fisher hadn't been wrong... when they were both able to hang up their respective duties and take a step back, to reorient themselves not as separate sides of an ideology but as two people on the same side – as _friends –_ it was nice. They did work well together.

She found herself thinking rather fondly of what it might be like once they got back to Earth, when she wasn't the Captain and he wasn't her second-in-command with a metric fuckton of rules to hide behind. When they weren't both trying, in their own ways, to make sure everyone got through this alive. She'd have to get him a coffee, something other than Selberg's seaweed substitute, and see where things went. It might be nice. Sam Lambert may, one day, be a very good friend indeed.

Something to look forward to then.

 


End file.
